


Please Don't Let Me Ruin Your Life

by irisstone16



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dadza, Dadza is trying his best, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Nightmares, Recovery, Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Trauma, Violence, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, found family dynamics whats up, no beta we die like men, uhh will add more tags as i add character ig, wilbur and techno are the same age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisstone16/pseuds/irisstone16
Summary: "Technoblade absentmindedly pulled at the shackles binding his wrists. The motion drew sounds from the chain links rustling against hard stone. He was waiting. Eventually someone would come for him, release his wrists, hand him some sharpened steel, and he would be led into the arena. From there he would do what he did every day since he came to this place: fight."Technoblade is a fighter. Not by choice, but no one seemed to care. Philza is a hybrid who has too big of a heart for his own good.AKA Techno is a kid forced to fight in an underground ring and Phil can't stop adopting kids apparently.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 44
Kudos: 518





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello this is my first dsmp fic and of course i hyperfixate on found family sbi bois. haha. i wrote this instead of studying and im very busy so i have no idea when im going to keep writing lol im sorry (i do have one more chapter planned tho) 
> 
> heavily inspired by The Fighting Pit series by hatwall but twisted to make it more sad ?? :) go read it its amazing
> 
> title is from the song ruin your life by andy shauf btw

Technoblade absentmindedly pulled at the shackles binding his wrists. The motion drew sounds from the chain links rustling against hard stone. He was waiting. Eventually someone would come for him, release his wrists, hand him some sharpened steel, and he would be led into the arena. From there he would do what he did every day since he came to this place: fight. 

It was hard to tell how long he had been here. Techno’s entire world was limited to a couple hallways separating where he slept and where he fought. He assumed that the sun must also rise and set, and he knew that he must be fighting on some kind of schedule, since the audience was there at regular intervals. But, then again, maybe this place was like the Nether, without a sun cycle. Maybe he was creating the routine he desperately tried to cling to.

He knew he had been in this place for far longer than he was in the Nether, taken when he was so young that he has to claw at the memories to recall what it even looked like. Hot – he could always remember the sweltering heat. The air tasted dryer there too, here it was full of moisture. Even these most basic sensations, though, were fading. Something about the monotony of this new place seemed to dull everything. 

And of course, there were the voices. Chants, sayings, demands, and questions seemed to take root in his mind more often than ever before. It was always worse after the fights. Something deep and primal and _frightening_ seemed to flood his ears and drown out his consciousness. It took over. The monotony, Techno thought, was also probably making that worse too. 

He thoughtlessly shifted the chains again, and he was interrupted when someone came into the room he was in. (He didn’t want to call it _his room_ like it was something he owned. He didn’t want anything to do with it.) 

So, it was time again. He stood as the bindings were removed from his wrists and idly wondered what their purpose was. Techno was locked in this room for every hour that he wasn’t fighting. Wouldn’t he be more dangerous with a weapon in his free hands, heading toward the arena? Did they think he was too dangerous to leave unshackled and unarmed?

An axe was pushed toward him, and he let the questions go unanswered. Walking down the dim hallway, he was curious if he would recognize anyone in the audience today. He never recognized his opponents, the ones who survived at least. He tried not to imagine their faces. 

As he approached, the voices grew louder. 

_Excited._

_Excited!_

_E. E._

_Deserved._

_They deserve it. Death._

Yelling and shouting soon began to mingle with the voices only he could hear. Techno was prepared for this fight – not injured or recovering, as he lifted his head high toward the audience. Another roar from the crowed as his opponent approached. It would be over soon enough; they were clearly inexperienced, given away by the shaking hands grasping their sword. 

Yes, Techno thought, it would be over soon enough.

~~~

Phil tried to hide his yawn in the cup he was drinking from. Clearly, he had been here too long. He had heard from a couple different sources that there was talk of a new fighter in one of the underground (and illegal) fighting rings: a piglin hybrid. He did his best not to be around people that would willingly find themselves in those places, but word spreads fast when money is involved. Apparently, there were some hefty bets on how long this guy would last. Phil cringed when he thought about it.  
Even some of his most well-intended friends had come across this information and felt obliged to tell Phil about the hybrid fighter, considering his own hybrid status. 

He had made sort of a name for himself within the hybrid community, as small as it was. As much as he could deny it, he has a soft spot for other hybrids. He knew, of course, that he couldn’t (nor should he) keep tabs on every hybrid that has existed, but he liked to lend a hand when he could. He surely could have used some help when he found himself in dire circumstances solely because he was a hybrid.

Which, as it happens, is how he found himself here. In a seedy bar, spending way too long sipping a now lukewarm drink, trying pick up on any chatter concerning the piglin. He was uncomfortable, wings cramped and strained underneath the large coat he wore to hide them. Phil was about to get up and leave when he heard the whispers of a sentence from someone across the bar. 

“… piglin, you know. How do you even get a hybrid thing like that? Anyway, from what I’ve heard it’s never even lost a fight. Sounds like bullshit to me, but I know where I’m placing my coin.” 

A couple hardy agreements followed by more hushed comments, and Phil turned his head to see who these people were. One large man who he could point out as the source of the voice, with an unkempt beard and many empty bottles surrounding him. Another two men sat at his table, equally as scraggly looked like a clear smell emanated from them. Phil didn’t recognize any of them, but he did recognize one character sitting nearby. 

At first glance, he looked like he wasn’t paying attention to their conversation, but Phil knew better. Phil had the same pensive look on his own face when he was listening in on someone else’s exchange. Like he read Phil’s mind, the man glanced up and caught his eye. Well, as much as he could through the white half-mask he always wore. 

Phil didn’t want to speak with Dream right now, but he was closer to an ally than those horrid men, and he could be of use. He always seemed to know more than he let on. If Dream doesn’t have the information he needs, then Phil could always come back and find those men, who as it appeared are regular patrons at this place. 

Phil rose from his seat and casually nodded toward the back exit as he made his way out, assuming Dream would follow him. He was right, and soon found himself standing in a dark alley with the man, a place he didn’t exactly feel comfortable. They weren’t sworn enemies, but Dream did nothing to hide his violent actions, and Phil didn’t like how well he fell in with people who he shared the same goals with, only to casually renounce them weeks later. To say he made Phil uneasy is to put it lightly. 

“Phil. I’m surprised to see you here, wings hidden and all,” Dream said. He sounded like he was smiling.

“I’m just looking for some information. I’ve heard things here and there about a hybrid participating in underground fighting.” Phil saw no need to fully hide his intentions yet. Dream seemed amicable enough.

“Hmm, yes. I’ve heard of him. The piglin, right? Impressive apparently. Some are saying he hasn’t lost a fight yet.” 

Dream had a certain way of making it sound like he was giving you new information while only telling you what you already know.

“That’s the one.” 

“Phil,” Dream said, drawing out his name. “You gotta fix this aching heart of yours. This one is a killer. Real piece of work they say. What’s your game here?” 

“There’s no game. I just want to see if the rumors are true. A piglin hybrid would be a very rare breed, and my bet is that someone is getting scammed.” That was mostly true, Phil does want to see the hybrid for himself. “What’s your game? Never knew you to be into underground fighting.”

“It’s less about the fighting and more about the waging for me. It may or may not be in my best interest to see how people are betting on the next fight.” 

Phil considered this while Dream went on.

“In fact, if you’d like to see the next fight, I can point you in the right direction.” Dream continued before Phil could interrupt. He held his hands up innocently. “No catch! Genuinely. Unless you want to hand me a couple spare coins and trust me to place your bet well.” 

“You can get me in? No questions asked?” 

“Of course! I can even put in a good word with the guy who handles him.” Dream seemed quite assured of himself, and it was making Phil uneasy. 

“Give me the time and place and I’ll be there.” Phil said as he tossed a handful of coins his way. He honestly wasn’t expecting to get this far in his little adventure tonight, but it seemed like that was being decided for him. Phil could sense abnormal motives coming from Dream but decided not to press too much. After all, it made sense that Dream was trying to make some quick money since Phil knew his last alliance had gone awry, and Phil could take care of himself.

“Friday evening, just after sunset. I’ll send you the coordinates later. Tell the guard watching the entrance I sent you.”

Phil gave him a brief nod, and with that they parted ways. As he headed back home, he put a hand on the sword that rested on his hip. He would be fine. Phil was just going to see the hybrid for himself, and then if something needed to be done, he would regroup and form a plan. He is an experienced fighter after all, an underground fighting ring is far from the worst he’s seen. 

He sighed as he walked. This better not turn into a mess.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is going to have some alternating perspectives of the same night with a little overlap! its also uhhh way longer than I thought it was going to be but oh well! combat is hard >:(
> 
> also general TW for some gnarly violence and mild dissociation, hence the M rating. yee be warned :)

Techno didn’t know what day it was. It had to be one of the days with a large audience, judging by the dramatic sword he was given and ridiculous red cape that was tied around his shoulders. The color was dark enough not to show all the blood that stained it, and it often got in his way more than he liked. He didn’t protest, though, as he tied his dirty hair back into a rough knot. To him, the fight was the same as all the others. 

He was able to subdue his opponents faster and faster in the last few fights, trying to resist the voices that called for something more brutal and less merciful. At least, that’s what he thought he was doing – being merciful. Others would probably disagree. 

Techno entered the arena to the chorus of onlookers and his assumptions were confirmed. Quite a crowd tonight. He briefly scanned the faces in the audience, finding nothing interesting, and turned his attention back to his opponent. Or rather, opponents. 

Okay. That was new. 

Three people stood before him. He hadn’t fought three people at once yet, hadn’t even fought two simultaneously. Their uniform stances gave away that they were a team. The voices seemed excited by this new development.

_See! See!_

_They want to see your work!_

_Who will go first?_

_Whose blood will spill?_

_Spurt and spatter._

_Butchered. On the cape. Bloody cape_

_Carve them._

His mind was screaming at him – Techno couldn’t figure out what was coming from the audience and what wasn’t. It was all so _loud_. 

His gaze focused once again on the three opponents in front of him. The blood pumping through his veins felt like fire. Three to kill. Two with swords. One with an axe. All with shields. The voices were confident enough, why shouldn’t he be?

He huffed air out of his snout and charged the fighter on the left; he wasn’t the smallest, but Techno was deceivingly quick and didn’t want to be surrounded quite yet. A crunch of shield hitting sword. Dodge. A gasp, as Techno’s sword slid through a gap between the front and back pieces of his armor. The sword twisted, cracking ribs as it pried them apart. There was blood on his face now.

Two left. The voices were overpowering.

_BLOOD!_

_One falls!_

_Blood for the BLOOD GOD!_

A heap of limbs collapsed in front of him. The crowd roared, and so did Technoblade. A guttural noise came from him that he didn’t recognize. Now he was surrounded. Dodging the axe that came close to his shoulder in a dangerous arc meant moving toward the swipe of a sword. Techno didn’t react as a bloody line was drawn across his back. Nothing he hasn’t handled before.

The voices seemed not to care that it was his own blood staining his shirt. They kept calling for _more, MORE BLOOD_. 

He spun around and used the blunt side of his blade to block another swipe from the woman holding the sword. Techno kept his momentum charging toward her, harshly shoving her to the ground. Another dodge, and the largest man wielding an axe brought it swiftly down on the leg of his teammate. A scream ripped clearly through the rest of the noise. Unfortunate for them, wonderful for Techno. 

Now facing both of his haggard opponents, he saw fear in their eyes. He loved it. (Something in him did, at least.) 

Techno grabbed an abandoned shield from the ground, not caring enough to know who it used to belong to. He faced the axe-wielding man. Techno was faster than this one too, but he could tell his foe’s strikes were coming down with deadly force. They traded a few blows, Techno blocking with his shield, as he wore down his opponent’s endurance. He thought it was nearly finished until the axe-man suddenly drew his previously unarmed hand up with a sword that his teammate used to wield. It was a lucky strike. if Techno wasn’t already bleeding, he would have been more impressed. He had never been pierced like this before, not with a blade protruding like an extra limb. It was unsettling.

The voices howled at him until they were all he could hear. 

_CUT HIM!_

_Cut him down. Carve him._

_More blood._

_The hand._

_Take the hand._

He was filled with a sensation he was new too. A righteous indignation swallowed him as he brought a heavy strike down, squarely on the wrist of the hand that had stabbed him. There was even more blood covering him now. 

Another scream – but it was cut off by the blade that swiftly slit his throat. 

Finally. Some quiet.

Soon sound outside of his own heavy breaths and intolerable voices returned to him. They were chanting his name. 

“Technoblade! Technoblade! Technoblade never dies!”

Techno drew his head up slowly as the bloodlust seeped out of his system, much faster than usual. Normally, he would be reveling. Massive blood loss may be the cause of his sudden awareness, he mused. Still, he scanned the faces of those chanting his name. 

His eyes halted at two figures. They weren’t cheering, or laughing, or exchanging the coin they wagered. One, blonde hair obscured by a green hat, was looking to him with an expression he couldn’t place. Maybe the blood loss really was messing with him. He would look back and try to recall what that man’s face held later. The other figure was one he knew. The one sent to “handle him” when he was being defiant or stubborn. Techno quickly learned not to be either of those things. He hadn’t gotten even so much as a slap in years. Odd, the sight of him.

It was at this moment Techno realized how badly he was injured. He was starting to get foggy too. Sometimes, after particularly hard fights, he would shift into a weird half-conscious state where he would lash out at any touch. Not helpful when people were trying to patch up your injuries. He knew he needed to leave before that happened, or he would surely bleed out.

Techno dropped the sword he was still clutching and turned to leave the arena, just as two guards were cautiously making their way to him. They led him out as Techno’s mind started to slip away. He grabbed at his awareness with all of his being. His mind screamed as he tried desperately to hold on, eyes frantically looking around to remind him to stay present.

He spoke to himself, trying to remind himself what was happening. The cape was already off, and he was sitting on the hard floor. His hands were already back in the shackles. When did that happen? He flinched when something touched his side. A bandage. A bandage was being wrapped around his abdomen. 

He tried to take in everything that was happening, but it was too much. Everything was too much. Every slight touch on his body felt like he was being smothered. The texture in his mouth was dry and unpleasant. It made him slip into a painful fit of coughing. He dipped his head sharply to the ground when he couldn’t even make out the shapes of people around him. 

And everything hurt _so damn much_. Techno hadn’t felt this way in a long time. All he could do was let out a low growl as he felt himself get even more worked up. 

He was finally able to slow his breathing down slightly, and he noticed he was shaking. He didn’t know how long it had been, but it was quieter at least. Maybe the people around him had finally left. He couldn’t be bothered to see where they were – he already knew this part of the routine. He’d figure it out when he wasn’t so damn tired. 

Techno felt himself being pulled away, out and deep, deep down, and he let it happen.

~~~

He was nervous. It was Friday, and Phil was definitely nervous. He had a very vague idea of what awaited him this evening. A gruesome battle, threatening characters, illegal wages, and potentially an incredibly violent piglin hybrid. And, on top of all that, he had to keep his wings hidden again for a whole night. It was a really unpleasant thing to do, leaving him sore and uncomfortable for days afterward. But brief soreness would be better than making himself a target in a world of thieves and criminals. He would live.

He extended his wings fully one last time before starting to hide them away under his large cloak. His movements were interrupted, though, as a mop of blond hair ran straight into his legs. 

“Ah- Oh Dadza!” Tommy said, looking up at Phil. “Tell Wilbur to stop being such a bitch! He keeps–“

Tommy was cut off by another yell somewhere in the house. “I only retaliated in self-defense! It was completely justified!”

“Stop using such big words _Wil_.” Tommy said his name like the word itself had wronged him. “You are a bitch! And you know what you did!”

“Boys!” Phil yelled, exasperated. That seemed to get both of their attention, as his oldest son poked his head into Phil’s room. “I have to go out tonight. I might be back a little late, so please cooperate until then. No burning down the house, or I swear I’ll kill you both. Yeah?” He looked to his sons for confirmation.

They knew it was an empty threat, like they all were, but nodded anyway. Phil was already later than he intended, so he said quick goodbyes to his sons and headed out, wings tucked away. 

It was well past sunset when he arrived at the coordinates Dream sent him, and Phil hoped he hadn’t missed the fight. Part of him would be slightly relieved that he didn’t have to witness it, but a larger part of him would feel guilty, though he couldn’t quite place why yet. 

From the sounds that echoed to the entrance of the seemingly innocuous building, Phil hadn’t missed much. He opened the door, unsure whether to knock or not, and was greeted by the sight of a tall man guarding the doorway. 

“I’m Philza. Dream sent me.” 

“Oh.” The guard replied. “This way then.” He gestured for Phil to follow and led him down a hallway towards the source of all the noise.

Phil was horrified and almost amazed at what greeted him. The smell hit him first – it was stifling. Body odor and decay mixed together in a horrible way that made him nearly cough before he got control of himself. Then the sight. The room he was in was quite large, but it didn’t feel that way with the low hanging ceiling so close to them. Phil was led through hundreds of people surrounding something in the center of the room that he couldn’t quite see yet. 

He was stood next to a man near the back of the room who looked far too put-together to be just a patron. They still weren’t close enough to see what people were yelling about.

The man next to him spoke. “Philza right? Dream said you were interested in the piglin.” 

“Yes. The hybrid- I’m curious more than anything. Never seen a piglin hybrid before.” Phil wondered how much Dream had told this man, but he wasn’t going to ask. He didn’t even want to know the man’s name. 

“Ah yes. Skeptical, no? Many people are. Then they see it fight, and well, your eyes don’t deceive.” 

“I came to see the fight. I’m assuming its behind us, yeah?” Phil gestured toward the crowed of people cheering. 

“In that case, let’s not delay! Don’t want to miss anything tonight. It’s quite special – your friend Dream made sure of that.” 

The man smiled a deadly smile, full of teeth, and started to lead Phil through the crowd. Phil’s eyebrows furrowed as he considered the comment about Dream. Just how invested was he in this operation? As they walked, the crowed around them seemed to shy away from them like sheep avoiding wolves. 

Soon enough, it came into view. An arena of sorts was carved out, plunging at least 25 feet underneath him. Though, calling it an “arena” was generous. It was closer to a pit, dug by people as if they knew that the purpose it served meant there was no need for proper construction. It was as feral and cruel as what took place within it. 

“See for yourself!” The man gestured with an open hand down to the sight before them. Now, at the edge of the arena, Phil could see everything clearly. The sight was horrific.

Four bodies were in the lower level of the arena, all of them in various stages of disarray. A woman and a man laid on the floor in a pool of blood. Two figures fought still, and Phil could quickly tell which was the hybrid. Fighting on hooved feet with the snout of a piglin, he was hard to miss. 

The cape he wore had a large gash through the back, and blood dripped off his body wherever he went. He charged the other man as though he couldn’t feel it, earning another deadly wound in the process. Phil shuddered as the piglin, in two swift moves, cut off the hand of his attacker and slit his throat. It was one thing seeing this type of fighting in battle where it was necessary, but something completely different seeing it here for bets and wages. 

The audience erupted in cheers. The piglin, who Phil could now assume was called Technoblade if the chants were to be trusted, stood still, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Then, he brought his gaze up to the onlookers chanting his name. For a moment, they caught eyes, and Phil could finally properly see his face.

He was just a kid. He couldn’t have been older than Wilbur. Phil was bombarded by thoughts of his oldest son. What might have become of him if Phil hadn’t found him? What if _Phil_ was left somewhere here like the piglin? Would he only know violence too? 

Phil thought about his own brutal past, about the things he had regretted most. For years, people only knew him as bloodthirsty and vengeful. Phil wasn’t even this young when such violence was thrust upon him. What could have he turned into? 

The moment passed; eye contact broken. And while it felt like it lasted minutes, it couldn’t have been more than a couple seconds. Briefly, Phil thought he saw confusion on the boy’s face before his gaze caught the man next to him. For a moment, Phil thought he saw fear too. Before he could ponder their shared experience, Technoblade wavered just for a second, fearsome resolve slightly cracking. Quickly, he was led out of the arena and out of Phil’s eyesight. 

The man he was standing next to turned and caught his attention. “So that’s it! That is the infamous piglin. How’d you like the performance?” 

In Phil’s opinion, he was far too casual about what they just witnessed, even for someone so clearly desensitized to this level of violence. 

“From what I saw, he seems like an incredible fighter.” Phil knew he needed to do something. He wanted to at least make sure the boy didn’t immediately keel over after this fight, even if he had barely an idea of what this place was and who these people were. “Is there any chance I could see him more close up? I didn’t lie when I said I’ve never seen a piglin hybrid before, and to be fair, I don’t think I saw much of him in the fight, what with the cape and gear he had on.” 

The man seemed surprised by his inquiry and tilted his head while considering it. He tapped his fingertips on the barrier in front of them and hummed in consideration. While they had been talking, most people watching the fight had left. It seemed that Technoblade was a serious attraction here. 

“You know what? Sure. Let’s go see it!” He started walking and Phil followed, amazed he had gotten this far. “Now don’t worry, the piglin will be chained up and of no risk to you or me.”

“Of course.” Phil nodded as he traced his footsteps down a different hallway, leading somewhere away from the main arena. 

“But regardless, it’s usually docile after a fight.” He leaned uncomfortable close to Phil. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to push around before it gets touchy.” 

This whole interaction was making Phil nauseous. He tried to keep track of the directions of the hallways and rooms they were passing through, even now they descended a staircase. 

“Of course, when it’s in a mood, you can’t barely get near it without getting a punch or kick. Ah- here we are.” 

Before Phil could even process what he was just told, another guard was opening a door in front of them. The room they entered was around half as big as the arena. Chained to the edge of the right wall was the hybrid. His glamorous cape and white shirt were gone, both likely covered in grime. Replacing them were bandages covering almost his entire torso. He was laying against the wall, half slumped over on himself, and he was shaking. 

“Oh, come on _Techno Blade_! This is just pitiful.” The name came out broken and wrong, like he’d never spoken it to him before. “This nice man wants to see you!” The man approached Technoblade and Phil had to fight the urge to stop him. He roughly grabbed the hybrid’s chin to pull his head up and Technoblade flinched so hard that he slammed his head against the wall behind him.

His eyes were still wired shut and he didn’t look close to consciousness, despite the grimace that came across his blood-speckled features. Phil was definitely out of his depth. What by the _gods_ did he think he was doing? Frantically, he tried to think of ways to get out of this situation and help the kid.

Phil could buy him. Clearly, he’s treated as property here. It would cost a ridiculous amount of precious gems and stones to be worth the price of the famous fighter, but he could probably gather it together. 

Phil could try to break him out of this place, enlisting the help of his friends. He would probably need Dream on his side, considering Dream would likely work against them to save his little money-making operation if he heard of their plans. 

Phil could convince the crazy man in front of him to fake a fight where Technoblade loses in exchange for Phil taking him away. If everyone bets on Technoblade winning the next fight, which would be tons of people given his most recent performance, and he bets on Technoblade losing, there could be some serious money to be won.

All of these ideas were insane. The first is improbable and unwise, the second is both of those and also very dangerous, and the third is going to require some serious convincing skills if he can pull it off. 

_Gods_ , he was screwed. 

“So, Phil. See anything you like?” The man walked over to where Phil was standing after manhandling Technoblade, who slumped back down. He pulled a pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to clean the hand that touched the piglin. 

“I’ve been thinking. I believe there may be a mutually beneficial opportunity for us here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what will phil do? stay tuned to find out!!
> 
> i dont know if im super satisfied with the way the events are playing out but i hope its making sense! this like twice as long as the first one oops
> 
> also sorry for the wilbur & tommy tease i PROMISE they will be in this later lol


	3. Chapter 3

This was, objectively, a terrible idea. An absolutely horrible, terrible idea. Phil was sitting at the small wooden table in the kitchen of his home. The tea he made when he got back was providing him little comfort. He was still surprised he had actually pulled it off, that he had convinced that man to let him take Techno. 

Of course, it wasn’t nearly as simple as just whisking the kid away. No, he was going to need some serious luck if any part of his quickly thrown together plan would work. By some miracle, the idea of purposefully throwing Technoblade’s next fight seemed more appealing to the handler than keeping the well-known fighter in his possession.

Apparently, as he had put it, Technoblade was bound to lose a fight eventually, _“Why not let it happen when you can control it, when the time is right?”_ This way, he said, when Techno’s fame was at its highest, his fall would be his farthest, and it would be the best money-making opportunity for the underground ring. Phil also got a feeling that the man knew how weary the fighter was becoming. As he conquered the never-ending series of enemies he was presented, he was taking longer to recover and get back into shape for fighting. His wounds were slowing him down. 

Phil had barely explained the idea to the handler when he started spouting nonsense about how rich he would become. He very nearly even claimed the idea as his own, too enraptured by the idea of his future riches to care enough to correct himself. 

Phil brought the mug of tea to his mouth, too worried about Technoblade to care that it had gone cold long ago. So eager to put the scheme into place, the handler told Phil the fight would happen the following evening. _“Phil,”_ he had said. _“Tomorrow is the perfect time for the next fight. After its most recent performance, people will be even more keen to see the piglin in the ring again.”_

He sincerely hoped that Technoblade could at least walk by the next evening, if only to show his face in the arena and immediately collapse again. Phil was trying not to imagine a scenario where Technoblade doesn’t survive the fight. Then came the problem of actually getting the hybrid back to his home. And if he managed that, Phil would have to figure out how to deal with his own two troublemakers who were currently asleep upstairs. 

Or, if his ears didn’t deceive him, currently attempting, and failing, to sneak down the staircase. Tiny wood creaks filled the air.

“Boys?” Phil lightly called out.

The creaks stopped suddenly, and two heads peered around the corner into the kitchen. 

“See Tommy, I told you that you were being too loud,” Wilbur said, giving a light shove to his brother as he headed toward the kitchen table. 

“Come ON Wilbur! He wouldn’t have heard seen us if you didn’t look around the corner!”

“You did the exact same!” Came another protest from Wilbur, before Phil interrupted them.

“Boys, I’m not mad at you. I actually need to have a talk with you real quick.” Phil figured that it wasn’t too late in the evening, and hoped that a good night’s rest would help them process what he was about to tell them. 

“You know how I was out tonight?” Two heads nodded back at Phil. “I’m going back out tomorrow evening too, and I should be bringing someone back with me.” 

Phil raised a hand before either of his sons could interrupt him. “This is very serious boys. I need you to listen to what I’m telling you before you ask questions. Okay?” More nods back at Phil, this time with intent expressions lining their faces.

“You know how I brought both of you here after I found each of you, right? Because I saw that you were alone,” Phil said, glancing at Tommy, “or that you weren’t safe,” He looked at Wilbur, “and knew I needed to look after you?” 

Phil took a breath before he continued. “Well, there’s someone else I came across yesterday that might need our help. No, actually, he definitely needs our help. If everything goes to plan, he should be coming back with me tomorrow night.” He reached forward and grabbed one of each of his sons’ hands from where they were laying on the table. “I need you boys to be patient, and kind, and _quiet_ when he gets here. From what I can tell, he’s much worse off than either of you were when I brought you home.” 

At that last comment, Wilbur’s eyes filled with concern as Tommy’s filled with shock. For a moment, all they could hear were the bugs that chirped lightly outside the kitchen window in their front garden. 

“Okay boys, it’s time for bed,” Phil said, rising from his seat. “I know you have questions, but it’s getting late and I want you to be able to think about this before tomorrow.” 

“But wait– who is this guy? How old is he? You didn’t even tell us his name Dadza!” Tommy protested, following Phil from the kitchen. 

“Tommy, it’s time for bed. I promise I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can tomorrow, okay?” 

The boy huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine! But he’s not sleeping in my room!” And with that, he stomped up the stairs, though Phil could tell he wasn’t genuinely upset. 

Wilbur made eye contact with his dad, and looking much older than he actually was, said, “Let me know if you need any help tomorrow Dad.” Wilbur had this conversation once before when Phil brought Tommy home.

Phil smiled at him. “Thanks Wilbur. I’ll only need a hand wrangling Tommy, but I’ll let you know if something comes up.” 

Wilbur nodded and headed up the stairs back to his room, and Phil took another breath. Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare. 

~~ 

Techno woke for the first time since the fight. He felt so cold. He shuddered before the movement made him gasp in pain. He felt stiff, like his bones were filled with lead and his muscles were tied taught around him, about to snap. Everything hurt, from his weary legs to the fingers that were clutching his bandages and the lump he could tell was forming on the back of his head. Techno didn’t need to run his hands through hair to tell– he recognized the sensation. 

He couldn’t remember what he slammed his head against, but if he hit it as hard as he guessed based on the pounding in his skull, he would be more surprised if he did remember. Slowly, he opened one of his eyes halfway. Darkness still surrounded him, and relief coursed through him. It must still be the night after the fight. 

Even laying still in the dark, Techno was getting dizzy from looking around. He sighed and closed his eyes again to the feeling of sleep pulling him away from consciousness. 

The next time he woke was not nearly as peaceful. A shove, and a hard pull on the chains that bound him made him shoot his eyes open. The light was so bright. It was overwhelming, almost loud around him. More people were moving around him, telling him things. He couldn’t hear what they were saying. 

A shirt was roughly pulled over his head, his arms painfully brought through the sleeves. His hands were already free from the shackles. Something definitely reopened with that movement. The pain was overwhelming. Surely, they did not expect him to fight again today. They bandaged the cuts and gashes that split his chest and back open, they knew the damage. Techno tried to refocus on his environment if only to figure out what the hell was going on.

“–payday. The biggest one, okay? It’ll be fine.” He recognized that voice. “Just make sure the crowd is as full as we can get, and everyone wagers, okay? I’m not losing this chance.” His handler was standing near the door of his room and speaking to someone outside. 

Why was he here? Techno felt his breath sped up of its own volition. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He won the fight, just like always. Techno searched his mind for the end of the fight, remembering how he lost his awareness so quickly afterward. Had he done something? Did he lash out? 

Before he could try to pull at any more memories, the handler was walking toward him with a chilling grin stretched across his face. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living. You’re fighting again tonight. Pulling quite the crowd too from what I hear thanks to your last victory.”

Techno froze, and hoped the fear and pain that was currently gripping his heart wasn’t visible on his face. 

“You’re not winning though. Fighting, yes. Winning, no. I have a little arrangement today that relies upon you losing the fight.” He leaned in closer to Techno’s face. He could smell the contempt dripping off him. “If you win this fight, I will make sure your body stays in that ring. You got that?” 

Techno did his best to nod, and prayed that this would be over. His prayers were answered, as the handler back out of the room, calling back to him, “You’ve got ten minutes, don’t fuck it up.” 

Lose the fight? Techno didn’t even know if he could stand. What was he supposed to do? ‘Losing the fight’ meant different things to different people. Those who lost to Techno never fought again. Was this it? Was he meant to die in this horrible place?

All of the carefully built-up apathy that protected him seemed to shake and crumble around him. The voices that seemed to have left him momentarily started to crawl back into his mind.

_Fight._

_First fight._

_No time._

_Not the time to think._

_Fight. Fight first._

All Techno needed to do– all he could focus on was the fight. The fight that was happening soon. Happening now. An arm brought him to his feet. Another shoved an axe his way. He just needed to fight, then he could deal with the rest. He knew this. He knew this part of the routine. 

On unstable feet he stumbled his way toward the arena. Techno let the roar of the crowd blend with the voices invading his ears and tightened the grip on his weapon. 

_Yes. Yes!_

_Fight._

_Here to see the fight._

_Here to hear the screams._

_Hear them. Make them scream._

Techno had never felt more out of control. He was slowly slipping away, being replaced and shoved away by the voices. He distantly saw his opponent coming toward him. It was like looking in a mirror behind him, seeing a reflection he couldn’t control. 

A sword came towards him. Techno steps away. His feet moved without him knowing. Another swing, another dodge. This time a shield that he couldn’t evade. Techno couldn’t feel the axe in his hands, but he saw it come down as he was pushed to the wall behind him. His head must have hit the hard stone, but he couldn’t tell. He felt his legs give out as he collapsed. 

Techno couldn’t see what was happening anymore. He didn’t know if his eyes were open or closed. A sharp pain to his ribs. The memory of a sword slicing through his skin was blinding. Fate must have been kind to him though, because before he could feel the surging pain in full, he felt himself drifting away again. He was pulled away, away from the loud sounds and the blood dripping and the voices yelling. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH im sorry i had planned for there to be uhhh not only pain in this chapter but alas i am very evil and mean and i couldn't work it in. i meant for this to have more story beats in it but i cant write like 5000 words today so i couldn't fit any happy techno in here yet lol :(( anywayyyy thanks for all the love on this so far! i really appreciate it <33
> 
> also i am indeed an overworked college student so most likely updates will be on weekends sporadically. hence the short update today lol


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continued tw for mentions of violence and abuse (but all implied/referenced this ch)

Phil was beyond stressed by the time he arrived at the next fight. He quickly maneuvered his way through the crowd to the front of the arena; the stuffy room was notably fuller than the last time he was here. An awful cloud of smoke and grime seemed to fill every corner of the room. Phil found the handler in the same place they watched the last fight, and slyly adjusted his restrained wings under his cloak. 

“Excited for the show?” The handler asked, with a repulsing grin. “I wonder how long it’ll last.” 

Any unknowing spectator might think he meant ‘the fight’ when he said it, but Phil knew better. 

Phil grunted in response, not trusting his voice to hide the ugly worry that was plaguing him. Soon enough, the other fighter joined the ring, and Phil felt the crowd turn their gaze to Technoblade’s entrance. A chill went down Phil’s spine when he caught sight of the hybrid. His footing was unstable and heavy, like he was worried the ground might give way underneath him. 

The other fighter approached Technoblade, sword drawn and shield close to his chest. He was by no means a small man, but if it were any other day, Technoblade would probably not break a sweat beating him. That clearly was not the case today. 

Technoblade barely stepped out of the path of a striking sword. His actions were sluggish and imprecise. The other fighter swung again and came even closer to slicing a ghastly cut into Technoblade’s shoulder. Technoblade swung at his attacker then, using the weight of the axe and gravity to bring it down.

Then, too quickly, the fight fell out of Technoblade’s favor. The man shoved his shield harshly into Technoblade’s chest, and an audible thud filled the room when his head collided with the wall behind him. Phil couldn’t hold back the breath he sucked in through his teeth. Technoblade fell then in a heap to the ground, his arms barely cushioning the fall. His opponent gave one harsh kick to his abdomen before the fight was called and two guards were escorting him away. 

Phil tuned back into the crowd then as a furious chorus of onlookers chanted their displeasure. People were pushing and shoving him from all directions, and the building seemed like it was on the brink of chaos. Phil barely spared the handler a glance as he roughly pushed his way down the hallway that led to the room where he saw Technoblade after the last fight.

The man watching the door must have known he was coming, because he let Phil pass without a word. Phil just barely stopped himself from slamming the door into the wall with how harshly he threw it open. Pairs of eyes snapped to him, then, as he stood in the doorway. He paid them no mind; his attention was solely focused on the piglin laying on the ground in front of him.

Technoblade was on his side, tightly curled in on himself, arms held close to his chest. There was no grandiose cape, no spectacular crown, just dirty pants and a tattered white shirt that slowly was growing more red as Phil looked at him. His expression was drawn tight again, like the last time Phil saw him, slightly obscured by the ratty long hair that fell over his face.

Phil wished he could spend time redressing his wounds right now, but there was quite frankly no time for sentimentality. The noise of the crowd was growing louder, and he imagined it would be turning into a riot sometime soon. He needed to get Technoblade out of here as quickly as he could.

Phil shifted his gaze to the other people in the room. A couple guards, looking more concerned with what was happening outside of the room, two people tentatively crouched near Technoblade who seemed like they didn’t even know where to begin with these new and reopened wounds. Simple enough. 

Phil marched toward Technoblade’s huddled frame and looked at the woman who was trying to see the wound on the back of his head. 

“I assume you’ve been informed of my arrangement. This one is coming with me.” Phil looked at her in the eye and hoped that his firm expression would not be questioned.

“Oh, um. Yes. Well-“ She started, but cut herself off when Phil crouched down to get a better look at the hybrid. 

The man next to her spoke up. "It would be best to leave out the back entrance. Go the same way you came but turn the other direction at the staircase. You should avoid some of the crowd.” His clinical tone was shocking, but Phil nodded in acknowledgement anyway. 

Phil brushed some of the hair out of Technoblade’s face and noticed just how grim he looked. Deep purple shadows fell underneath his eyes, his gaunt face slick with sweat. One particularly gnarly scar wormed its way from his cheek up through his eyebrow, narrowly missing his eye. 

With a deep breath, Phil slid one arm under his legs and another around his back, and lifted him up. Despite being much younger than him, Technoblade was around his same height. With how much he fights and his piglin genes, he should be much heavier than he was, Phil realized. 

Phil made his way toward the back exit as quickly as he could. Technoblade must have been unconscious, since he didn’t protest a stranger handling him other than an occasional twitch of his head or sharp inhale. With a push from his shoulder, he shoved open a door he hoped would lead him outside. 

Phil was greeted by darkness outside the building, nearly colliding with someone standing outside the door. He quickly tightened his grip around Technoblade as the man turned around to meet his eyes. It was Dream. They shared a moment of shock as they recognized each other, and Phil realized this was now the second time that he found himself in a dark alley with the man. 

“You should go,” Dream said, “it’s not safe for him to be here.” Phil furrowed his brow at the concern that laced his voice. This was a side of Dream Phil wasn’t used to seeing. Phil preferred greedy scheming Dream, not helpful or worried Dream; at least would never be surprised at the former’s actions. 

“There’s a fairly secluded area just past that building,” Dream continued, gesturing to their right. “You’ll be able to fly out without anyone noticing.” 

As apprehensive as he was to take Dream’s help, Phil knew Technoblade was deteriorating quickly, and it would be much faster to fly them both back to his house. Phil nodded a ‘thanks’ at Dream and made his way around the other side of a nearby building. He gently laid Technoblade down as he shucked off his cloak and wrapped the piglin in it. 

Extending his wings fully, Phil couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh at the sensation. His muscles had been tight and stiff after restraining them so much the past few days. Phil picked Technoblade up again, adjusting his grip slightly after hearing a weak gasp come from the boy. He brought his wings to their full height, and with a rush of air, they were flying. 

Once they were at a safe height, Phil glanced back down at Technoblade, noticing the slight tremor seizing his form. Part of him wished Technoblade would open his eyes if only to reassure Phil that he would be fine, and the other part of him knew a wounded and frightened piglin would not react well to waking up 100 feet in the air in the arms of a stranger. Phil hoped that regardless of whatever happens when he wakes, he would be able to help him. 

Physical wounds- those were something Phil had experience with. He knew the right dressings and stitches, which potions to use when. But Phil had no idea beyond a vague timeline of Technoblade’s history, his experience fighting, or who the kid actually was behind the axe he held. He just hoped that his inevitable mistakes would be forgiven one day, and Technoblade wouldn’t run away from him the moment he woke up.

~~~

Techno didn’t know where he was. Everything was moving too quickly. He couldn’t even open his eyes, too busy trying to keep his mind awake. He felt a thick pull toward something that felt like unconsciousness, but something inside Techno told him that if he let himself be pulled away, he might not come back.  
He tried remembering what happened. A voice provided him with the answer.

_The fight._

Ah yes, he thought, the second fight. The one that he left on the floor, with a throbbing skull and overwhelming pain. The pain, yes. That was coming back to him now. He resolved to focus on the pain and stubbornly resist the pull away from awareness. Techno latched onto the sensation, tracing it back to its origin across his body. 

A deep and heavy weight felt like it was resting on the back of his head, crawling underneath his scalp across his head. Definitely a concussion. The crudely sewn stitches on his stomach felt like they were digging into his bones, and the ones on his back felt stretched past their limit. A sudden movement in any direction and surely, he would fall apart.

He realized that his body, far away from himself, was moving. Each turn made him more and more dizzy. Techno knew that even if he could open his eyes, the motion of the world around him would probably make him vomit. He squeezed his eyes shut even more, as if that would block out the movement he could feel. 

Techno had never felt this fragile before. Before, even when he felt the most pain he’s ever experienced, it was never like this. Never desperately clinging to awareness, so unlike when the voices tried to drown him out. A scared and childish thought sprung into his mind before he could stop it.

_Would they be mad at him? For losing the fight? For failing so spectacularly?_

He couldn’t panic. No, not when he didn’t know where he was and when he couldn’t even open his eyes. He refused to let the fear overwhelm him.  
Suddenly the momentum of his body changed with a halt. Somewhere distant, he heard himself inhale sharply when the adjustment twisted his chest slightly. Broken ribs then too.

Techno tried to focus on the sound around him. The slam of something against wood, and he was moving again. He felt his head loll back as he was laid down on something. There were voices again, and he was fairly certain they weren’t the ones in his head. Despite all his effort, he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *disappears for a month* *adds a chapter where techno is unconscious for 90% of it*
> 
> hey! oops lol sorry about that. i do indeed actually have a plan for future chapters i promise, however i have incredibly poor time management skills so here we are. probably will keep writing the next chapter right after i post this so we can finally get some slight resolution and sbi content in the near future hehe
> 
> as usual comments are appreciated >:) even if its to tell me to stop w the goddamn exposition (ik i want it to end as well lol)


End file.
